« FöregåendeFortsätt »
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me
upon thee in a much fairer sort,
live! P. HEN. My gracious liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me: Then plain and right must my possession be: Which I, with more than with a common pain, 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
17. HENRY V TO HIS SOLDIERS. What's he that wishes for more men from England ? My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin, If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
This day is called the feast of Crispian :
Shall be my
brother; be he e'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispian's day.
18. WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. WOL. Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-inorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his root, And then he falls as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, l'hese many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye! I feel my heart new open'd. O how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs
and fears than war or women have, And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. Why, how now, Cromwell ?
CROM. I have no power to speak, sir.
CROM. How does your grace ?
Why, weil :
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me,
CROM. I'ın glad your grace has made that right use of it,
Wol. I hope I have: I'm able, now, methinks,
weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad ? CROM.
The heaviest and the worst, Is your displeasure with the king.
God bless him ! CROM. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. WOL.
That's somewhat sudden;
May he continue
CROM. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;
Wol. That's news indeed.
Last, that the Lady Anne,
Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down. O The king has gone beyond me; all my glories [Cromwell! In that one woman I have lost for ever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell : I am a poor
fall'n man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the king,
(That sun I pray may never set !) I've told him
O my lord,
yours. WOL. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries : but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the womanLet's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell : And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard, say then I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once rode the way of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in : A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me: Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels : how can man then (Though the image of his Maker) hope to win by't ? Love thyseli last: cherish those hearts that late thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not, Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fallist, O Cromwell, Thou fall’st a blessed martyr. Serve the kingAnd pry’thee lead me inThere take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny, 'tis the king's. My robe, And my integrity to Heaven, is all